The Good Fight
by karissaakawriter
Summary: This story will focus on Hermione and Ron's points of view throughout the series when Harry was in a fight against evil, or when they all were fighting the good fight together.  Rated M for violence in later chapters.


Author's note: This story will focus on Hermione and Ron's points of view throughout the series when Harry was in a fight against evil, or when they all were. I will borrow dialogue heavily from the stories to make it as canon as possible.

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

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_This chapter takes place during chapters sixteen and seventeen of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone because I'm American and the whole world thought that Americans were too stupid to not think that the original name, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, wasn't a book about philosophy, so they changed the name just for my country: _

Hermione screamed, and wanted to cover her face with her hands, but couldn't bring herself to take her eyes off of Ron as the white queen dragged him to the side. She had just moments before struck a horrid blow to his head with her heavy stone arm. Hermione's mind worked frantically as Harry moved three spaces to the left.

_He could be dead. Oh my god, being hit on the head that hard with stone… people die from less. No, no, no. He can't be dead; I've been ever so mean to him._

She finally drew her eyes away from Ron's still form when the king threw his crown down at Harry's feet. It tore at her to leave Ron in there alone as she and Harry charged through the door to the next passageway, and she afforded herself one last desperate look back at him; she saw Harry do the same.

Hermione swallowed back her tears and finally tried to put words to what she was most afraid of, "What is he's-"

"He'll be alright," Harry interrupted, she saw that he was trying to convince himself with his own words, "What do you reckon's next?"

Hermione reasoned to him that only Snape and Quirrell's spells had to be next, and found herself still thinking of Ron lying still on the chessboard floor. She shook such thoughts away; he hadn't let himself be taken for them to fail. She had to get Harry past the spells, she had to. His sacrifice couldn't be for nothing.

"Alright?" Harry whispered as they approached another door, snapping her out of her thoughts. He had seen the worried look on her face and had mistaken it for her being worried about the next room, instead of what they had left behind.

Hermione nodded, turning her mind to what was ahead of them: two more spells, "Go on."

The door creaked as he pushed it open, and instantly a wave of a morbid smell crashed into them. Hermione pulled her rob over her nose and wiped her watering eyes. There was a troll, far bigger than the one they had taken out earlier in the year, lying on the floor in front of them. In fact, it looked to be bigger than any troll Hermione had ever read about. A grotesque lump dominated the top of its large head, the lump still oozed blood.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry said as he helped her over one of the troll's tree trunk-like legs, "Come on, I can't breathe."

Hermione figured they probably wouldn't have survived fighting that troll. Defeating the first one had been just luck, and Ron and Harry's quick thinking.

When they opened the next doorway, Hermione could see the relief in his features. He thought that the table with the several different bottles on it wasn't frightening. Hermione thought that it could possibly be the most dangerous test of all of them; she knew that it was Snape's trap, and she understood how dangerous that man was. He was in league with You-Know-Who, after all.

She just hoped that they could get there in time. The key with crumpled feathers on one wing and the troll were proof that Snape was already ahead of them. She wondered what two kids were going to do against a powerful wizard like him. Hermione wished that she was as brave as Harry.

"Snape's," Harry said, reaffirming what Hermione already knew, "What do we have to do?"

As he spoke they began moving over the threshold. As soon as they were safely on the other side, bright purple fire sprung up behind them, completely coving the doorway. In the doorway across the room, black fire, so dark that it seemed to be the shadow of night, shot up. There was no way back, and no way forward.

Then, Hermione's eyes alighted on a small scroll lying next to the potion bottles. She found it strange that the string formerly tying it close was lying beside it on the table. She had thought that Snape wouldn't have needed to even read it. Perhaps he had wanted to double check.

Her confusion faded as she read the riddle, and before she could stop it, she felt a wide smile spread across her face. She relaxed in the relief of it. It was only logic. She knew logic.

"_Brilliant_," she said. Finally, it was something she knew they could get past. No magic, just a little careful thought, "This isn't magic- it's logic- a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

Harry looked at her fearfully, "But so will we, won't we?"

Hermione almost laughed, "Of course not. Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison," she saw Harry flinch out of the corner of her eye, "two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

He still seemed incredulous and worried, "But how do we know which to drink?"

For a moment, Hermione thought she might shake him; he and Ron could be so daft sometimes. Ron… Ron was still in the chess-room. She had to hurry so they could get the stone, then get back to Ron. So instead of shaking him, she told Harry, "Give me a minute."

She read it over and over again, making sure that she took in every detail, weighed every possibility. Their lives were in the balance of her decision; if she made a mistake, they could be poisoned. There was no room for mistakes.

With the paper still in hand, she walked up and down the line of bottles, assessing each of them in turn. Finally, she was absolutely sure that her initial judgment was correct, and clapped her hands together.

"Got it," she said, "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire- toward the stone.

She closed her eyes, waiting for Harry to point out what she already knew.

"There's only enough there for one of us. That's hardly one swallow."

Hermione opened her eyes and met his eyes carefully.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Harry was the bravest wizard she ever knew, Hermione thought as she pointed out the rounded bottle.

"You drink that," he said, his green eyes steeling against what was to come, what he was going to face: alone. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her, "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy- go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

Fear struck Hermione as she looked at her friend, about to go face an enemy he knew he couldn't defeat.

"But Harry- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

Harry pointed at his scar, the permanent memento of his first encounter with You-Know-Who, "Well- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar, "I might get lucky again."

Hermione tried desperately not to cry. She had to be strong for Harry. The sudden realization that she may never see him again hit her like the Hogwarts Express, and she threw her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could.

"_Hermione!_" she could hear the embarrassment in his voice. He had grown up without any form of affection. She wondered then if he had ever even been hugged before.

"Harry- you're a great wizard, you know," she told him.

"I'm not as good as you," he told her as she let him go.

"Me!" she exclaimed, honestly surprised that he would say such a thing, "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things- friendship and bravery and- oh Harry- be _careful_!"

He gave her a small nod, "You drink first. You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," she said, all the while rerunning the riddle through her head. Finally, she downed the potion from the round bottle and shivered. It felt as if snow were running through her body.

"It's not poison?"

"No- but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

She felt the sudden need to tell him one more thing, to delay the inevitable: letting him go on alone, "Good luck- take care-"

"GO!"

Without further delay, she turned and walked through the purple fire, turning her mind to the next task: sending Hedwig to Dumbledore as soon as possible to help Harry before it was too late, and to get to Ron.

From there on, Hermione ran as fast as she could. She leaped over the troll's legs, sprung through the door on the other side.

Ron lay where he had fallen, but he was stirring slightly, "Ron!" she rushed to his side and sat down beside him. She inspected his head carefully, and found that he only had a small bump on the side of his head. There wasn't any blood that she could see.

Ron groaned.

"Ron," she said urgently, shaking him slightly, "Ron, you have to wake up. We have to get Harry help.

He groaned again, but didn't wake.

Hermione got to her feet; her heart pounded violently in her chest. Ron was in no condition to get out by his own accord. What could she do to move him? In every book that she had read and memorized, nothing had prepared her for this.

An idea struck her, and she pulled out her wand, "Wingardium Leviosa."

Ron's body lifted limply into the air, his arms and legs hung limply down, and the position looked quite painful; she lowered him again.

"How am I to do this?" she asked the empty room. A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm her as she found herself woefully unprepared. She couldn't fail them, she just couldn't!

Another idea popped into her head. It was mad, she knew, but it had a strange possibility of working.

She ran away from him, through the other door to the flying key-room and grabbed one of the broomsticks. She ran back to Ron in the chessroom.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he rose into the air again, and, manipulating him with her wand, she was able to have him land directly in front of her on the broomstick she was already straddling. She had already removed her cloak, and wrapped it around his front and tied it around her back. The makeshift rope served to keep him close to her and on the broom.

"If only I weren't so dreadful at flying," she said to herself. She thought of Harry, alone with Snape, and kicked off the ground.

Her flying was a bit slow and wobbly, with Ron in front of her, limply flopping from one side to another, but she was finally able to achieve the correct balance and picked up speed. She shot through the key-room doorway, and aimed her wand past Ron's shoulder and up at the Devil's Snare that had re-formed, "Confringo!" she shouted. Flames leapt from her wand and the Devil's Snare shrank away from its light. She flew straight upwards without hesitation. Ron's weight pushed against her, and nearly pushed her off the broom completely, but she kept flying towards the distant open trapdoor.

Until she saw a dark shape more directly over the top of it.

Fluffy was standing over the trapdoor; there was only a small space between his stomach and the exit. Hermione wasn't sure if she could fit through, and she had gained too much momentum to stop without plummeting down. If they fell, there would be no Devil's Snare to cushion their fall.

She slowed as best as she could before they shot out of the trapdoor; with all of her strength, she turned the broomstick down. Hermione narrowly missed colliding with the three-headed dog's stomach. She felt coarse fur just barely touch the top of her head. She darted through the dog's front legs, and towards the door.

The door opened just in time for her to go through. Three loud barks came from behind her.

She continued down the corridor, with Ron tightly against her. When she was sure they were safe, Hermione looked back to see what had opened to door.

Snape stood there, gaping after her in a strange daze.

_Snape! If Snape is here… then who is down with Harry?_

A horrible thought struck her, unbidden: _You-Know-Who_.

It all made sense now. Snape had gone through to see what challenges were in store, and told his master about them so that he could be ready. Now he was going to make sure that You-Know-Who had gotten through safely.

Out of his daze, Snape called after her, "Ms. Granger! Ms. Granger! Get back here! Ms. Granger!"

_I'm going to be expelled_, Hermione thought bitterly, _but I suppose it's worth it if it means stopping You-Know-Who._

She continued on, unheeding to Snape's calls. Heading as fast as she could to the Hospital Wing: to drop off Ron so that she could send Hedwig to Dumbledore.

Hermione passed several Prefects on her way through the castle. All shouting at her to get off the broom or she would be in huge trouble.

She figured she was already in trouble, and what really mattered was getting Ron to safety and to get word to Dumbledore. And so long as she was able to do all of that without actually getting stopped, she thought she might have a chance to stay at Hogwarts if she could save Harry. Maybe Dumbledore would understand.

Hermione pulled the broom to a stop and dropped to the ground in front of the hospital wing. Quickly, she untied her cloak from around them and lowered Ron gently to the ground.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione shouted, "Madam Pomfrey!"

The witch bustled out quickly, and, upon seeing Ron, fell to his side.

"What happened to him?" she asked seriously.

"He was hit in the head with a chunk of marble," Hermione replied quickly. She picked up the broom again and began to mount it.

"Where are you going?" she asked sternly.

"It's an emergency," Hermione said, kicking up into the air, "Just take care of him!" and against the Healer's complaints, she shot off again.

As she shot up past the staircases, up to the owlery, Hermione was painfully reminded again of how much she hated flying. She refused to look down, but even so, she knew exactly how high up she was. It wasn't that though, that made her hate it; it was that she wasn't good at it and that no matter how much she studied it, she couldn't seem to get better. Hermione hated anything that she wasn't good at.

Finally, after a few times in which she lost temporary control of the broomstick and nearly fell, Hermione landed in front of the owlery door. She dropped the broomstick hastily and rushed into the room. She snatched a quill and piece of parchment off of the table and scratched down a hasty message:

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_ The Sorcerer's Stone is in danger. You-Know-Who is trying to get it. Ronald Weasley and I helped get Harry Potter down to where the Stone is hidden, but I couldn't go past the black flames with Harry. Please get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible and help Harry. _

_ Hermione Granger_

She jogged up and down the rooms in the owlery, searching until she found Harry's snowy owl. She retrieved Hedwig quickly, tied the note to her foot, and sent her off.

As soon as Hedwig disappeared into the night, Hermione slumped to the floor and leaned back against the cool brick wall. All she could do now was wait.

And hope.

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Author's note: It wasn't really an action scene; it'll be fifth year that I actually get to write them in an action scene, if I remember correctly. But I hope you still liked it. Leave a review, I love to learn.

On another note, it was really odd to write Hermione so young, when she didn't know every spell to know.


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